


Horror Route - Good End (Dimitri)

by ikvros2



Series: Dimilix Spiderweb 2020 [1]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Choose Your Own Adventure, Fluff and Humor, Halloween, Love Confessions, M/M, Possession, cf!dimitri and modern!felix have a heart-to-heart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-22
Updated: 2020-11-22
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:41:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27664181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ikvros2/pseuds/ikvros2
Summary: A sword, Felix thinks, is just an overgrown knife—or a really fat fencing foil with the safety off.One of the ending segments for Dimilix Spiderweb 2020. Experience the interactive (& illustrated!) storyhere!
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Felix Hugo Fraldarius
Series: Dimilix Spiderweb 2020 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2022794
Comments: 2
Kudos: 17
Collections: Dimilix Spiderweb 2020





	Horror Route - Good End (Dimitri)

**Author's Note:**

> happy late halloween! this is one of my contributions to dimilix spiderweb and one ending segment of the horror path.
> 
> i highly recommend [downloading the game](https://dimilixweb.itch.io/spiderweb2020) or playing the web version to experience this beautiful project in full - it has music, sound effects, integrated illustrations, and the cutest interface you ever did see. [slip](https://twitter.com/slip_fe3h) did an incredible job putting it together. huge shoutout to [eza](https://twitter.com/eznochi), also, for organizing this event, and to all of my wonderful and talented co-contributors!
> 
> here on ao3, you can:
> 
> \- [go back](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27461230) to the very beginning  
> \- [go back](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27473431) to the horror path intro (who notices the sword?)  
> \- [go back](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27507775) one segment (does felix flee or confront dimitri?)
> 
> and don't forget to check out the absolutely stunning [art](https://twitter.com/royalcorvids/status/1323005682275082240) Magpie did for this segment ♡

A sword, Felix thinks, is just an overgrown knife—or a really fat fencing foil with the safety off. He’s been fencing for years; he knows what the coil of the body looks like, the intent to step forward and strike. He has nowhere to go but through the door, and that is solidly locked behind his back.

"I’m getting us out of here," he says, eyebrows raising. It feels like there’s a hummingbird trying to escape his ribcage, but he keeps his voice steady. "What the hell are you doing with that?"

Dimitri has the audacity to look put-off—confused—for one brief moment before his expression hardens. The edge of the blade skirts closer to Felix’s throat. "What I should have done the last time you dared to stand before me. You’ve betrayed us all, and now you’ll pay the price with your head."

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

Dimitri _growls._ "You _die,_ right here, right now, by my hand! I won’t allow you to escape me again."

Felix flattens himself to the door, the wood hard and ungiving at his back, the sword at his throat, an ancient, rusted thing. He narrows his eyes. \"Who exactly do you think I am?"

" _Enough!"_

Dimitri draws his arm back, poised to strike, and Felix has never in his life been more appreciative of the way his training has honed his reflexes than he is when Dimitri thrusts the blade forward with enough force to impale him three times over. It skewers the wood mere inches from his body and sticks there, three feet of metal through a door that Felix prays to the Goddess no one is on the other side of. 

"You almost killed me," he says weakly, disbelieving. "You’re really trying to kill me."

"Of course I am. You killed Sylvain. You killed _Rodrigue,_ Felix. You’re a traitor of the worst calibre. You will burn in the eternal flames for all you’ve done."

"I didn’t—Sylvain isn’t _dead,_ _"_ Felix says, horrified at the thought. "And neither is my dad."

"I _watched_ them fall!" Dimitri roars, wresting the blade from the wood before raising it again. "I watched you cut them down like they were nothing! All for the sake of the Empire, for that woman. You turned your back on us all."

The _Empire?_ That’s—it can’t be, he thinks. This can’t be happening. It can’t be real. But the sword at his neck _is_ real. And Dimitri hasn’t been himself since they wandered through the door.

"Dimitri," Felix grits. "Think. Where are we?"

Dimitri—or, Not-Dimitri—pauses at that. His eye flicks around the musty room, the dust-covered mantle, the cold stone floors.

"I—I don’t know," Not-Dimitri says. And then, harshly, "It doesn’t matter."

Talking. Felix has to keep talking. Talking means delayed killing. Delayed killing means he can think of how to get them both out of this alive.

"Doesn’t it? I’ll tell you. We’re at Claude’s creepy old house. There’s a party through this door, full of our friends. Sylvain and Ingrid are there, definitely getting drunk off their asses. My dad’s not here, because that would be weird. But he’s _alive._ He’s probably—grading papers or something at home. Something boring. He’s a history professor at our school."

Not-Dimitri sneers. "What nonsense do you spout? Our academy days were long ago."

The blade bears closer. Felix strains away from it, gritting his teeth. "You mentioned the Empire. Dimitri. What is the year?"

"I don’t—"

"What. Year. Is it."

"It’s 1186!" Not-Dimitri snarls.

"1186," Felix says. "Four saints. You better not be fucking with me."

"You—"

"Wait. Just. Hold on a second," Felix says, digging into his pocket like there isn’t a rusty blade angled for his jugular.

"And wait for you to cast Thoron?" Not-Dimitri draws the sword back again. "Do you take me for a fool? I will tear the—" 

"Look!" Felix says, thrusting his phone at Not-Dimitri’s face. Not-Dimitri jerks back like the mere touch of it would burn his flesh, eyes wide. He thinks it’s a weapon. Of course he does; he’s from 11-fucking-86. "The date," Felix gripes. "Read the date."

Dimitri does not look convinced that there is no threat present. But his eyes drift across the screen regardless, squinting as he parses the bolded lettering.

"I do not understand."

Felix hisses through his teeth, frustrated. "Right. Imperial calendar. Okay—wait a second, it’s been forever since we learned it. Uh." He scrubs a hand over his face, recounts the moons in his head with that stupid tune he learned in fifth grade. "It’s the—Wyvern Moon. It’s 20XX, the thirty-first of the Wyvern Moon. It’s Halloween."

Not-Dimitri blanches. "20XX."

"Yeah. You’re about eight hundred years too late for your revenge plot."

"You lie," Not-Dimitri says, but he sounds uncertain. "This is a farce."

"Is it? Look around us. If you’re fighting a war, where are your soldiers? Your friends? Anyone else? Do you recognize anything about the room we’re in? Do you remember going to sleep? Waking up? Do you remember anything clearly at all?"

"I remember…sleeping for a long time," Not-Dimitri says after a moment. "A very long time."

"Long…as in eight hundred years long?" Felix presses.

Not-Dimitri doesn’t speak.

"Look, I don’t know what any of this means. I don’t know how this is possible. What you are. What you want. But I’m not—whoever you mean to kill. I’m not—"

"I remember," Not-Dimitri says miserably. "I died. I—was killed. By you."

"Not by me," Felix says. And then, "You have to give Dimitri back."

Dimitri starts at that, fear and anger flashing in his eye. "I _am—_ _"_

 _"My_ Dimitri," Felix says, and then the words he’s been holding back for years begin to spill out of him like overflowing water. "I—I love him, okay? I’ve loved him since we were kids. You can’t just take him from me. Your time has passed. You’re a ghost. This isn’t your body. This isn’t your life."

Not-Dimitri, says, very slowly, "You…love him."

Felix flushes, but keeps his chin up. "He doesn’t know it. I haven’t told him. But I—he knows something, on some level, I think. And if you—I’ll never get the chance to tell him properly. I’ll die with regrets. We both will. Maybe he’ll even end up like you. If you are who I think you are—this is a second chance for you. A second lifetime. Don’t take that from yourself."

"I was a king," Dimitri says.

"And now you’re dead. So give him back."

"Are you in a position to be making demands?" Not-Dimitri asks, but the fight is gone from his voice, the sword lowered. He seems to be thinking, contemplating something. Without the rage twisting his features, he looks fragile. Felix notices the dark shadow beneath his eye, the gauntness of his cheeks. Eight hundred years is a long time to waste away.

Felix says, "Please."

Not-Dimitri hangs his head. Felix stands there, chest heaving, waiting to be told no. To be killed. To die with regrets.

"…May I ask you a question, before I go?"

Oh. Well. That’s slightly more promising.

"Okay," Felix says warily.

"…What is Halloween?"

Felix feels a relieved sob bubbling up in his chest. He holds it down. "It’s, uh. A holiday—a festival. Has old roots. They probably had something like it in your time. Everyone dresses up in costume. You know, pretends to be something they’re not for a day. Kids get candy. Adults get…drunk. And candy, if they want it."

"You don’t like candy," Not-Dimitri says like he knows it for fact. "Or drinking."

Felix’s lips twitch. "Or wearing costumes. But that goes for us both."

Not-Dimitri studies him. "You are alike in many ways," he says. "But not in all of them."

Felix sure hopes so. He hasn’t killed his best friend or his father, for starters. He doesn’t think he ever wants to—even if Sylvain’s antics do occasionally invoke something murderous in him.

"Let me ask something in return," Felix says, crossing his arms.

"What is it?"

"I—will you be…at peace, when you let go? Move on to—whatever there is on the other side?"

Not-Dimitri smiles ruefully. "I do not know what will happen. I have been trapped for so long, waiting for—I don’t know what. Perhaps I will remain tethered. Perhaps I will descend into the eternal flames. It’s as you said: my time has passed. I’m at the mercy of my fate, now."

And Felix doesn’t know at all what to say to that. 

Quietly, Dimitri murmurs: "Please…do what I could not. Remain by his side."

"I plan on it."

Another smile, a flicker of fondness. "Goodbye, Felix."

Not-Dimitri closes his eye. Nothing happens at first; nothing Felix can discern. But then he feels it—the receding chill. Something heavy, draining, draining, and then being there no more. The absence of presence, physical in every sense but sight.

When Dimitri’s eye opens again, it’s a bright, clear blue. The shadows are gone; the gauntness, the rage. His face is healthily flushed and full, the one Felix knows so well.

"Dimitri?"

"It’s me," Dimitri says, and it is.

His stomach unfurls all at once. "Are you alright?"

"Yes. A little disoriented, but alright."

"Do you—" Felix takes a step forward, unsure, "remember any of that?"

Dimitri smiles. It’s not the sad, shadowed thing that had crossed the Not-Dimitri’s face. It’s hope and relief and sun and Felix loves him so, so much, he could burst. "Every moment. He could—we could communicate with one another. He thought I was the ghost, at first."

Oh.

 _Remain by his side._ The other Dimitri hadn’t been speaking to Felix at all. He’d been speaking to— 

Felix swallows. "So you remember what I said. About…"

"Only if you meant it," Dimitri says quietly, looking at him with remarkable patience and kindness for a man that has just been possessed by his homicidal ancestor. There’s apprehension in the wet blue of his eyes; an earnest hope and vulnerability that is so easy to read. Dimitri is so damn _easy_ to read, sometimes. "I would understand. If you only said it to keep from being impaled, that is. If that’s the case, I’ll forget about it, rest assured. I’m just happy to be—"

"Oh, shut up," Felix says, grabbing Dimitri by the shirt and tugging him forward to kiss him squarely on the mouth. It’s a clumsy thing; bumping noses and clashing teeth, Dimitri’s mouth warm and wonderful and real under his, body curling toward Felix like a plant toward sunlight. His Dimitri.

"Thought I’d lost you for a second there," Felix breathes against his lips.

Dimitri pulls back to look at him. "I thought he was going to _kill_ you," he says emphatically.

Felix raises an eyebrow. "I could have taken him."

"I’m not so sure. He—I saw things, when he was with me. He showed me things. So much bloodshed. He survived much. Until he didn’t."

"Is that all?"

"He showed me you," Dimitri says. "The you from the past, I should say. His you."

"The one he wanted to kill."

Dimitri’s eyebrows knit together. "It felt…more complicated than that. I think they loved each other, too. They were just…unlucky. Bound by time. Circumstances."

"This is so weird," Felix breathes. "So, what, we’re reincarnations of two idiots who didn’t have their shit together during the Unity of Fòdlan?"

Dimitri shrugs. "It does appear that way, doesn’t it."

"Weird," Felix repeats. "I can’t think about this right now."

Dimitri says, "Yours."

"What?"

"You said I was yours." He’s smiling again, and Felix scowls at him like it isn’t the best thing he’s ever seen.

"To _differentiate,_ _"_ he says stubbornly. But Dimitri reaches up to touch his cheek, and his heart stutters in his chest.

Dimitri says, "I love you."

Felix leans up and kisses him again.


End file.
